Page 13 of Lone Star Protector

Since her imagination was going full throttle, Caroline steeled herself up and went to the door. And she froze. Just froze.

Not a body.

But blood. So much blood. It covered her bed, turning the soft blue quilt crimson red. In the center was a knife that had been stabbed into the mattress.

Then, there were the photos.

Dozens of them were scattered on the floor. Photos of her. Some recent. Some from back then, when she’d been eighteen. Most of the images had been taken from long range.

Except for one.

It had been propped up on her headboard and was much larger than the others. Bodie’s face stared back at her. Not an old photo either. This one had to have been a recent one since he had a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. And in the picture, he was grinning and sporting a triumphant look.

“Hell,” Nash muttered.

That’s when she realized he was right next to her and had taken hold of her arm. Ruby was behind her, and her mother’s breath wasn’t as steady as usual.

“I’m guessing these weren’t your photos?” Malley asked.

Caroline shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen them before. That’s not my knife either.”

It was one she recognized though. Or rather she recognized the handle that had been made from a stag antler. She knew because it was identical to the one Bodie had used on her.

“It’ll be a skinning knife,” she muttered. “With a hook at the tip.”

Just saying that robbed Caroline of her breath, and she felt that razor-sharp hooked blade slice into her. Felt it over and over again. Then, the images came.

The blur of frenetic motion.

The pain.

The godawful pain.

“Steady,” Nash murmured, and he moved in front of her, cupping her chin and forcing eye contact. “Steady,” he repeated, his voice calm enough, but even though she was on the verge of a serious panic attack, Caroline could see this had gotten to him, too.

“Whose blood is that?” She managed barely a whisper and silently cursed her reaction. She didn’t want to feel weak. She didn’t want to feel scared.

But she did.

God help her, she did.

Caroline used Nash as an anchor. Or more of a lifeline. She locked gazes with his and picked up the rhythm of his breathing since it was a whole lot more level than hers was.

“It’s probably fake,” he said. “The color is off for it to be real.” Nash paused, kept his focus solely on her. Kept his hand gripped on her shoulders. “Here’s what I want you to do. Don’t look at the bed or the pictures, but glance around the room and tell me if anything’s missing. Can you do that?”

She nodded even though Caroline wasn’t sure she could actually do as he’d asked. Still, she didn’t resist when Nash eased to the side so she could have that look.

It was impossible not to notice all the blood, but she reminded herself that it was probably fake. The entire scene had been staged to terrify her. And it’d worked. Damn it, it’d worked, and that had to stop.

Caroline took in the rest of the room. The nightstand with her blown glass lamp that she’d made. Her phone charger and her tablet. There were a pair of panties and a bra tossed on the chair in the corner. Not part of the staging. She’d left them there when she’d gotten dressed that morning.

“Nothing’s missing,” she said.

“Good,” Malley piped in. “Nothing else in the house seems to be out of place, but the back door appears to have been jimmied.”

While Malley was talking, Nash led her away from the bedroom and back into the kitchen. He didn’t have her sit, probably because this area would need to be checked by the CSIs as well.

“When would the intruder have gotten in?” Malley asked.

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